Yikes who knew they could send junk mail to our little neighborhood so I'm changing the subject.
I walk the streets at night - sleep is impossible as I watch the chaos of my old home town, New Orleans, obsessively on television and the net. Long past midnight I walk my neighborhood and linger in the quiet, star spattered, relative peace of my life here and, (forgive me for being cliche), count my blessings.
My family are now all accounted for, all alive, and all with nothing left of their lives in a City known for it's jazz, the never-ending parties, Mardi Gras, a remarkable heritage of Creole French, African and Indian, and a survival Spirit so strong that they watch while others shoot each other for food then turn around and rush to the aide the one they have just injured.
I do not sleep. There are hours and hours with a brush in my hand and I paint my way out of this funk. The two foxes that live in my yard yip all night. Their voices like fingernails on a chalk board and I love them. I feed my obsessions and photograph everything in site and dream of bigger and better cameras...day dream that is of a Sony Mavica FD-97.
Thanks for your words, especially Tobot who responded from a place I'd like to go but can't just yet and FK...you are a poet, a rock and my friend. You cleanse the palette of my heartache and pointedly direct a better place for my dreams ~ sleep will come.
GZB |
